You're a Wizard, Hershel
by AfghaniVeteranHedgehog
Summary: (AU) Hershel Layton receives a letter from Hogwarts on his eleventh birthday, and from that day on, his outlook on ordinary life will never be the same. T because I'm paranoid.
1. The Letter

It was Hershel Layton's eleventh birthday that day, when the snow from the last week finally tired itself out. Every adult was out shoveling their walkways while the children used said snow to fight with other. Hershel would most definitely be out with the children of Stansbury, if he hadn't caught a cold just the day before. Instead, he sat in his room, occasionally getting up to use the restroom or to get something from the kitchen. He claimed that he was feeling quite alright other than his slightly runny nose. His parents, concerned for his heath, wanted him to stay inside for at least one more day.

Around noon, while he was shuffling into the kitchen for some water, he heard his mother answering the door.

"Yes? Oh, do come in from the cold." She said cheerfully as a near-white figure stepped inside.

"Thank you, ma'am." Said what sounded like an elderly Scottish woman, dusting some snow out of her hair. "I hope I haven't come at an inopportune time."

"Oh, no, it's perfectly alright."

"Well, then, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Minerva McGonagall. I'm here important

business about your son, Hershel."

A look of concern crossed Mrs. Layton's face. "I-I hope he hasn't been causing trouble. Though I do wonder how he'd be able to, what with his cold and all-"

"Don't worry, Mrs. Layton." Said McGonagall. "I'm not here to rat on him for anything. I'm here for a different reason. Is he home?"

"Yes, he is, but he has a bit of a cold-"

"It's okay, Ma." Hershel said, coming into view completely. "I was already up."

McGonagall glanced the young boy up and down, before reaching into her fur coat and handed him a letter. The envelope felt ancient, almost like it would crumble at his slightest touch. He turned it over in his hands and saw an odd purple seal on the back of the letter.

"Whatever is this for?" Asked Mrs. Layton.

"It's an invitation, for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." When greeted by confused looks by both Laytons, McGonagall said, "Shortly put, your son is a wizard, Mrs. Layton."

"A…wizard?" Hershel breathed, tracing the purple seal on the letter.

Mrs. Layton blinked. Once, twice, a third for good measure, and a fourth because she was completely baffled. "Wh…what?"

"A wizard." Repeated McGonagall. "As I expected, you were probably in the mindset that there were no wizards in the world."

"Well, yes, I'm afraid that I was." Mrs. Layton murmured half to herself.

"It's understandable. To be a witch or wizard in the Muggle world- that's our term for non-magical people- means to keep our magic a secret. As such, we've been, for lack of better term, hiding from Muggles for centuries, creating our own little world of sorts."

Mrs. Layton nodded, looking rather confused and flustered. She looked on as Hershel opened the letter slowly and began reading the letter.

A small smile played on the old witch's face. She too turned to Hershel, who, face scrunched in concentration, was skimming the book list. "…'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them By Newt Sh-Sch… Scamander?'" Hershel looked up at his mother. "Ma, where are we supposed to get all these?"

"I wonder…" Mrs. Layton asked McGonagall, "Is there someplace we can get what he needs?"

"Yes, there's a place in London where you can get what he needs." The witch informed them. "I've talked to a wizarding family nearby, and they've offered to help you gather his supplies. I believe you know the Ascots?"

Mrs. Layton nodded, and Hershel asked, "Randall's family?"

"I believe their son's name is Randall, yes." McGonagall reached into her pocket and pulled out a watch, grimacing at the time. "Sorry to leave so soon, but I have another appointment to keep. If you have any questions, I'm sure the Ascots will be able to answer them."

"A-alright, though I'll have to go over this with my husband…"

"That's quite alright." McGonagall turned for the door and opened it, stepping outside. Before leaving, she added, "Oh, and happy birthday, Hershel." With that, she left, and Hershel could've sworn an odd popping sound followed the sound of the door closing.

The Laytons just stood there a while, speechless, staring at the door after McGonagall. Hershel took another look at his letter. "Ma?"

"Yes, dear?"

"…What does 'we will await your owl' mean?"

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><p><strong>Yea, I should probably be working on my other stories, but this AU needed to be done. I really hope I got everyone in character here…<strong>

**Oh yea, I'll be using all the Hogwarts teachers because I have no imagination. The only one I'll be adding from the Layton-verse is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (obviously). Next to nobody else from the Potter-verse will be in this. **

**Follow, Favorite and Review!**


	2. The Ascots

**Hello again! I just wanted to thank user The Mocking J and Guest for leaving a review!**

Once all was explained by the Ascots, Mr. and Mrs. Layton had warmed up to the news of Hershel's gifts rather well, fully backing his schooling at Hogwarts. The Ascots were also quite surprised and more than happy to help him with traveling to Diagon Alley and King's Cross when the time came. Randall was just glad he could finally share his knowledge of the Wizarding World with his friend.

About two weeks before term actually started, Randal woke Hershel up bright and early by throwing rocks at his window. The just-awoken Layton opened the window. His friend's far-too-lively-for-this-time-of-the-morning-voice called out, "Come on, Hersh! We're leaving in a few minuets!"

"Wh-what!?" The boy shouted down at his friend. "But it's only…" Hershel glanced over at his clock. It really was almost time to leave. "I'll be right down! Don't leave without me!" He stumbled backwards, shutting the curtains as he rushed to get dressed.

When he was ready, he ran out the door with a rushed "We're leaving to get my school things and I have to go right now I'll see you later bye!" aimed at his parents as he joined his friend, breathless. "S-sorry, Randall…" He panted, "I overslept my alarm…"

"Ah, it's alright." Randall led him by the arm down the street. "Happens to the best of us. Except, of course, my mum comes in and pretty much screams in my ear if I'm not up in time. You don't want to know how that sounds when you're half asleep, trust me…"

Hershel winced, having only heard Mrs. Ascot yell once, and that wasn't even directed at them. "So, um, how long will it take to get to London?" He asked, wondering if he should have told his Ma and Pa that he would be home late.

"Not that long." His friend kicked a pebble down the road a bit. "We should be back in a few hours, four tops."

"But, isn't London really far away…?"

Randall smirked at his friend, saying, "Oh, you'll see…"

He was silent for the rest of the way to his house, although 'house' was a grave understatement. His grin, though, remained plastered on his face.

Mrs. Ascot greeted her young guest at the door and led the pair of boys to the main fireplace. Once there, she turned to a maid and said, "Please get someone to fetch me the flowerpot. My husband must have misplaced it again when he left for the Ministry this morning."

"He lost the Floo Powder again… Why can't he just leave it on the mantle where everybody knows it's there?" Randall muttered to himself as a small figure approached the woman of the house. It was Henry, the Ascot's servant boy and one of Hershel's friends. He held a flowerpot full of strange-looking powder. He tapped Mrs. Ascot's arm, almost causing her to knock the pot out of his hands.

"Ah! Thank you, Henry." She smiled warmly, taking the flowerpot. She turned to her son and his friend and asked, "Has Randall explained to you how Floo Powder works yet?"

Hershel shook his head. "I don't think he has…"

"I wanted it to be a surprise." Randall stated, the cocky grin returning to his features.

Mrs. Ascot sent her son a look that Hershel didn't have time to process before she reached into the flowerpot. The elderly woman took a handful of the powder inside. She passed the pot to the three eleven year-olds (Henry included). "You just take a bit of Floo Powder and throw it in the fire, shouting the place where you want to go loud and clear." She instructed them.

"Huh?" The young Muggleborn looked quite puzzled at the powder between his fingers.

"Here, like this," Randall stepped up to the fireplace. He took in a deep breath before shouting "DIAGON ALLEY!", throwing the powder into the flames. Emerald green fire replaced orange and red, and he said "See you on the other side!" before stepping into the fireplace. After that, the green flames faded, and Randall disappeared.

"Oh, I'd better go in after him." Mrs. Ascot mumbled to herself before doing exactly as her son did and slipping into the unknown as well.

Hershel watched this unfold before him with disbelief and mild fear. What if he said something wrong and wound up in a different country? The mild anxiety built up until he felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

"Ah, Hershel…" Henry whispered. "Do you want to go…?"

"U-um…" Hershel nodded, a bit hesitant, slowly stepping up to the fireplace. He cleared his throat, not-quite-shouting "Diagon Alley!" and throwing the Floo Powder into the fire. The green flames sprang up, and he glanced behind his shoulder at Henry, who gave him a reassuring thumbs-up and a small smile. Taking a deep breath, Hershel stepped into the flames.

The next few seconds were a blur. It felt like he was going at an insane speed, but his actual speed was a mystery to him, since he squeezed his eyes shut. When he landed at what he assumed was his proper destination, Hershel tripped over a stone on the hearth. He gave up trying to move from the floor soon after landing. His head throbbed like someone was beating it with a stick, and stomach was doing backflips. The combined sensations made him want to empty out the non-existent contents of his stomach.

"Hey Hersh, you alright?" He heard Randall's voice from above him and arms try to pull him up.

"I'm gonna be sick…" Hershel whimpered, managing to stand on shaky legs.

"Wow, if this was your reaction to Floo, you're going to have a hard time with Apparation…" The young Ascot murmured.

They managed to get out of the way just in time for Henry to stumble in, a bit pale and disoriented but otherwise fine. Randall led the pair to where his mother was, and Hershel's jaw dropped.

There were people dressed in colorful and strange robes. They seemed out of place to him, but not while they were walking alongside the strange stalls and shops. Owls dove in through windows and onto people's shoulders. Cats sat on their owner's heads and curled around their legs, and a few dozen toads croaked somewhere in the distance. There was so much to take in, and Hershel forgot about his travel-sickness just by the sight of what stood before him.

The ever-present smile on Randall's face became more prominent. He gestured wide as he proclaimed, "Welcome to the Wizarding World, Hershel!"

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><p><strong>I sincerely hope that this chapter wasn't too confusing. If it was, my deepest apologies.<strong>

**Next chapter's the shopping trip at Diagon Alley! I cant wait to write it!**


	3. The Alley

The bright, vibrant colors of Diagon Alley were a stark contrast between the eerie vibe of Ollivander's Wand Shop. The proprietor of the shop himself, Mr Ollivander, made the hairs on the back of Hershel's neck stand up. He roamed the shelves full of wands, muttering to himself as he looked for three boxes. Mr. Ollivander picked three boxes and handed them to each boy, reciting the length, wood and core of each wand inside. He instructed each boy to "give them a little wave".

Randall's wand (Oak, dragon heartstring, 10 inches, unyielding) immediately emitted bright yellow sparks. This prompted him to give a cocky and fist-pump. Hershel and Henry's wands didn't do anything.

Mr. Ollivander snatched the two boys' wands away, muttering to himself as he found two more. It took a few wands for each of the boys. At last, Henry's (Willow, unicorn hair, 9 inches, somewhat springy) worked. It produced a circlet of flowers that almost fell on Randall's head. Hershel's (Sycamore, phoenix feather, 9 ½ inches, quite firm) worked as well. It summoned a bird that flew around Mr. Ollivander's shop for the rest of the day.

After Mrs. Ascot bought the wand, they made their way over to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions for their school uniforms. There was a bit of a line, so Randall decided to break the silence everyone was hoping for in secret.

"So, Henry, what House do you think you'll be sorted into?" He asked his friend.

"I'm not really sure, Master Randall." Henry said in a quiet voice, refusing conversation in the most polite way possible.

"What about you, Hersh?"

Hershel shrugged. "I don't know the Houses well enough."

"You guys really are no fun." Randall pouted, quivering his bottom lip for emphasis. The pout dissipated as the group burst out into giggles.

"But in all seriousness," The young Ascot began when he calmed down enough to speak again. "I think I'd either be in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Henry'd probably be in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, and Hersh… you'd be the same as me." He smiled a genuine smile. "Wouldn't it be something if we all wound up in Ravenclaw?"

"I don't think that's all too possible." Hershel said, grinning rather smugly at Randall. "After all, don't you have to be smart to get into that house?"

Randall punched his friend on his arm in a playful manner. "In that case, I don't think you'll be getting in either!" Once again, all three boys started laughing.

"Ah-hem." The three friends turned to see Madame Malkin and another witch waiting by two empty stools. "I can measure two of you for robes now."

"You two can go." Henry spoke up first. "I'm fine with waiting."

"Are you sure?" Randall asked. Henry nodded in answer. "Alright then."

Hershel was vaguely aware of someone else entering the shop, but was too fascinated by the floating tape measures to pay it any mind. Once the witch finished his measurements, he stepped off the stool. He watched the floating sewing needles stitch together floating fabric, and ran into someone. "Ah! I'm sorry!" He apologized.

There were two girls. One had long, brown hair that almost looked green. The other had glasses and shoulder-length ginger hair (who also appeared to be blushing). "It's fine." The brown-haired girl assured him. "First time in the Wizarding World, huh?"

Hershel nodded. "This place is so… magical, for lack of better words."

Both girls giggled. "It's my first time too." Said the ginger girl. "I'm Claire, and this is Brenda. What's your name?"

"I'm Hershel-"

"And I'm Randall, nice to meet you!" Randall interrupted, using Hershel's head as an arm-rest. "And the one getting his measurements done is Henry."

"It's nice to meet you all." Brenda smiled. Madame Malkin motioned her and Claire to the stools as Henry stepped off the stool.

Henry joined the rest of the group as the finishing touches on the robes were added. Mrs. Ascot paid for everything and the four of them began walking out the door. As they left, Claire shouted and waved, "I'll see you and your friends on the train, Hershel!"

"Oh, um, see you too!" Hershel waved back, stifling a giggle as he saw the look on Madame Malkin's face as she tried to convince Claire to calm down. He noticed Randall was looking particularly smug as they walked towards their next stop. "What?"

"You noticed, right?" The young Ascot asked with a sly tone to his voice.

"Noticed what?" The young Layton responded, oblivious.

Randall sighed. "If you don't know, I'm not going to say anything."

"Why not?"

"It'll spoil the fun."

"Why would it be fun?"

"You'll know when you're older, Hersh."

"You're two months older than me, Randall. You're not that much smarter."

"I'm smart enough to notice these things."

Hershel gave up trying to reason with his friend's logic after that. He had been his friend long enough to know that once Randall decides something, there was no use trying to dissuade him.

Their next stop was Amanuensis Quills for, well, quills. This confused Hershel at first, wondering why they had to use ink quills and not regular Muggle writing utensils. He stayed quiet after the looks he was getting. After that, they stopped at various shops to get their cauldrons, scales, phials and telescopes.

The last stop was the bookstore Flourish and Blotts. The three boys decided to "divide and conquer", as Randall put it. Each boy ran off to a separate direction and grabbing three copies of each book. By the end of the search, Hershel had nine books. He ad three copies of The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) at the bottom of the stack. Three copies of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration were on top of that. Three copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection topped it all off. The stack of books obstructed his vision, resulting in him running into yet another person. "I'm so sorry!" He said, looking up at the older boy in front of him.

"No, it's my fault." The older boy apologized, pushing his red-rimed glasses up his face. He turned his reddish-brown gaze at the younger boy. "I'm afraid I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Oh, um…" Hershel began picking up the fallen books when he noticed the other boy still staring. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What?" The older boy blinked and quickly shook his head. "Oh, sorry, you just reminded me of someone I knew once. But you couldn't be him…" He looked at the eleven-year-old. "What's your name?"

"Hershel. Hershel Layton."

The older boy smiled and shook his head again, much slower this time. "No, I'm afraid you're not him. Stupid me, thinking I'd see him again…"

Both boys were silent for a moment. "What's your name?" Hershel asked at length.

"Desmond Sycamore." The older boy smiled, tucking a book of what appeared to be fairytales under his arm. "Let me help you with those books."


	4. The Train

September first found the Laytons at King's Cross Station, where they were saying their goodbyes.

"…And don't forget to write."

"I know, Ma."

"And be sure to stay warm in the winter months."

"Ma…"

"And if you get homesick, I packed you some of your favorite tea…"

"Ma, I'm gonna miss the train!"

"Oh, sorry…" Mrs. Layton pulled away from her son, wiping a tear from her eye. "It's just… it's going to be so lonely when you're gone…"

Hershel smiled, reassuring his mother. "I'll be home for Christmas. Don't worry."

Mr. Layton stood beside his wife and said, "Be good now, Hershel. Don't get into too much trouble."

"I'll try not to, Pa. See you in a few months!" With that, Hershel turned and pushed his cart towards the wall Randall told him about. He broke into a run, going faster with every step, closing his eyes as he braced for the impact that would never come.

When he opened his eyes, they instantly widened at the sight of the magnificent red steam train in front of him. His attention was only pulled away when he heard Randall (who had gone in before him) yell and wave him over to an opening in the train.

Hershel pushed his cart over to the opening as he noticed that Randall was not the only one there. There was Brenda and Claire (who looked particularly happy to see him), both smiling and waving. There was also, to his surprise, another one of his friends from Stansbury (and his Randall's 'secret' crush), Angela.

"Isn't this great, Hersh?" Randall asked excitedly. "Angela's coming to school with us and we can all hang out and it'll be the greatest thing ever!"

"Yea, that'll be fun." Hershel smiled as he began trying to unload his cart. "Where's Henry?"

Randall gestured to the inside of the train. "He and Clark are saving a compartment."

"Who's Clark?"

"One of the friends I made within the past ten minuets."

"Ah." Hershel attempted to pull his trunk onto the train, but the sheer weight of it made it impossible to lift off the platform. Even with Randall's help (all the girls had gone ahead to the compartment), it would be impractical to expect to be able to do it before the train left.

A voice came from inside the train, "Need a hand?"

Hershel turned and saw who it was. "Oh! Um…Desmond!"

Desmond smirked as he stepped out of the train. He was already wearing his school robes, his green and silver tie glinting in the station light. The older boy grabbed the handle Hershel was holding. "Go help your friend lift it up from the other side."

Hershel did what he was told, and with less effort than before, they were able to lift the trunk onto the train. "Thanks again, Desmond." He said, smiling at the older boy.

"My pleasure." Desmond smiled back. Something clattered behind him, causing all three to look in that direction. "Those idiots… Please excuse me," He nodded a polite goodbye and walked to the other end of the train.

"Wow, Hersh, already making friends with the older kids." Randall smirked at is friend. "He's gotta be fourth year, at least. _And_ he's a Slytherin!"

"Is that a good thing?" Hershel asked, grabbed the handle of the trunk again, preparing to drag it across the floor to the compartment.

"In a sense." Randall grabbed the handle with his friend and began sliding it across the floor. "People who've been at Hogwarts for while usually have more time to learn the loopholes in the school rules and whatnot, and Slytherins in general are pretty persuasive. Or, at least, that's what my dad told me. He was a Slytherin too, actually, so I'm taking his word for it." He stopped suddenly to rub his sore arms. "Geez, what'd you pack in this thing? Did you bring your whole room?"

"I think Ma slipped some extra things in there when I wasn't looking…" Hershel mumbled, making a move to slide open the door that Randall pointed to.

"Like what, a sack of bricks?" Randall joked as the door slid open. Inside the compartment was everyone Hershel expected to see: Henry, Claire, Brenda and Angela. The only one there Hershel didn't know was a small brown-haired boy with an odd cowlick on the back of his head. The boy stood up, just barely coming up to Hershel's shoulder, and said, "Oh, are you Hershey?"

"Hershel." The taller boy corrected him. "And you're…Clark?"

Clark nodded, smiling and offering to help Hershel bring his trunk inside. Due to the slightly cramped space in the compartment and the fact that none of the eleven-year-olds could even lift it, the trunk served as a makeshift seat for Hershel. After a few minuets of aimless conversations, the train lurched forward and the journey began.

A few minuets after the train started moving, an elderly woman with a tray full of candy came by the compartment. Randall immediately bought a dozen Chocolate Frogs, Angela bought a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and Claire bought a few handfuls of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

Randall passed out his Chocolate Frogs, two for each person. Hershel was fascinated with the fact that the chocolate frogs actually acted like frogs, but was glad that they didn't taste like their animal counterpart. His first two Chocolate Frog Cards were Babayaga and Circe, two witches that gave him nasty looks and made him feel a bit uneasy looking at them.

Shortly afterward, Angela dared everyone to eat at least one of her Every Flavour Beans. Everyone ate them one at a time, starting with her. She popped the bean in her mouth and immediately grimaced. "Uggh, mustard!"

Henry was next. "This one isn't bad… I think it's blueberry?"

"I got a apple-flavored one!" Clark said, relieved that it wasn't disgusting.

"Ew, _dirt_!" Hershel spat it out into his handkerchief.

"Oh, I hate pears!" Claire coughed, her disgust clear on her face.

"Hm… bugglegum." Brenda didn't seem too disappointed.

Randall was the last to take it. He practically threw up. "Liver _and_ tripe!" He whined, coughing to try to get rid of the taste.

"Here," Claire handed him a bit of gum after popping one into her mouth. "It'll get the taste out." He gratefully accepted it.

Soon, she had passed the gum around to everyone, and practically the rest of the trip over to Hogwarts was spent seeing who could blow the biggest bubble. Brenda and Henry seemed to be rather good at it, blowing bubbles larger than their entire heads.

After a few hours of this among other things, a Prefect (as shown by his badge with a bright, shiny 'P' on it) knocked on the door and informed them to get dressed into their robes. This took a relatively short time, as everyone opted to just pull them on over their Muggle clothes, and they soon stepped off the train onto Hogwarts' grounds.


	5. The Sorting

**Sorry for the wait!**

* * *

><p>The castle which housed the school was huge, to put it shortly, with a vast stretch of land around it. There were six odd-looking hoops on the far-end, standing as tall as the surrounding forest. There was a lake, just about as big as the castle, with something massive swimming beneath its surface. A man led Hershel and his friends to small boats lined up along the shore.<p>

The man who was guiding them to the boats, well, to say 'man' was an understatement. He was more of a mountain, with a kind face and twinkling eyes hidden under a mass of hair. The man, whose name was Hagrid, smiled wide as he gestured the children onward. He helped them one by one into the boats and sent them on their way.

Hershel was in the boat with Randall, Henry and Angela. Randall had taken to trying to see what was just below them in the lake, nearly tipping the entire boat into the water. Both Hershel and Angela had to pull him back to his seat, while Henry just tried not to get seasick.

The boats reached a stone tunnel that led to under the castle. The first years dismounted and were met by Professor McGonagall, who explained that they were to be sorted into a House and live there with the rest of their Housemates as long as they were in school. Hershel wondered just how they would be 'sorted', as Randall never did explain it to him.

The first years were seated at a long, empty table. Hershel looked around to see the other four tables color-coded. While the student's robes were all black, as were the hats on their heads, the ties and the occasional scarf ranged from blue, red, yellow and green.

Turning to the front table sat who he assumed were the teachers. Most of them were older-looking, probably in their seventies, all wearing what he assumed were their best robes. Professor McGonagall, clothed in emerald green, brought out a scroll, a stool, and a ratty-looking hat. Unrolling the scroll, she read the first thing off the top: "Ascot, Randall!"

"Wish me luck!" Randall whispered to his friends as he stood and waltzed up to the front of the room. McGonagall picked the hat up off of the stool and placed it on Randall's head when he sat down. Hardly a moment passed when a rip on the hat opened, a voice shouting, "SLYTHERIN!" The green table cheered as Randall removed the hat and ran to join his housemates.

Brenda was a few after Randall. The hat thought (though a hat should not be able to think), then shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Claire was called up soon after, running up nervously at the sound of her name. A few moments of deliberation, then "RAVENCLAW!"

Several more shouts of the hat followed, a lengthy break until McGonagall announced, "Layton, Hershel!" The eleven-year-old sat under the hat as it thought about his fate.

A voice- the hat's, to be exact- spoke inside Hershel's head, scaring the boy at first. The hat didn't even speak so much as it did mutter, occasionally tossing words like "intelligent" and "brave" around. Finally, after the longest minuet of Hershel's life, the hat shouted "RAVENCLAW!"

After joining the other Ravenclaws, Hershel watched the rest of the sorting, paying particular attention to his freinds. The hat shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!" almost instantly after being placed on Henry's head. "GRYFFINDOR!" was heard for Angela, and "RAVENCLAW!" for Clark, bringing a close to the Sorting.

The hat was put away as an old man approached the podium. He had a long, white beard, and slightly mischievous eyes twinkling under his hat. "I have only two words for you today," He said, "Tuck in!"

The empty plates on the house's tables filled with some of the most delicious foods Hershel had ever seen. It looked even better than his mother's cooking, not that he'd ever tell her that. As he ate his fill, Hershel looked around at all of the tables. Randall was bonding with Desmond at the Slytherin table. Henry kept glancing at the Slytherins, but seemed to be at home with the rest of the Hufflepuffs. Brenda had just told a joke to Angela, who nearly fell off of the Gryffindor table laughing. Next to him, Clark and Claire were having a very heated conversation about Quidditch.

Hershel smiled, confident that the upcoming year would be one to remember.

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><p><strong>All sortings of the Professor Layton characters are based on personal opinion. <strong>


	6. The Flying Lesson

Hershel's first few weeks of class were definitely an interesting experience.

He learned the first day that the castle's layout was not a definite Point-A-to-Point-B system. The stairways sometimes _moved_, often trapping students on the wrong side and making them find a different way around. Just getting to class the first day was a challenge for Clark, Claire and himself. (Silently, he wished all first years the best of luck finding their way around.)

While he could deal with the moving staircases, as he didn't come across them too often, but what would always catch him off guard were the moving paintings. They'd occasionally say hello to the passerby students, have conversations, and, according to Angela and Brenda, there was a painting called the Fat Lady that guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Hershel wished the Ravenclaws had a set password instead of impossible Wizard riddles just to get inside their rooms.

On top of the ever-moving castle were the ghosts that inhabited the walls. Each house apparently had a ghost assigned to it, the Ravenclaw one being the Grey Lady. He also saw Peeves, a poltergeist, on an almost-daily basis. He'd constantly pull pranks on the students, most particularly the '"Ickle Firsties", and only stopped when someone threatened to tell the Bloody Baron.

With regards to classes, he decided early on that Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts were his favorites. He had little to no complaints regarding them and their teachers, the only major peeve being that the DADA teacher, Professor Riddleton, had an addiction to puzzles that rivaled that of his father and Randall. He was glad that Henry shared that class with him, and not the red-headed Slytherin.

Hershel didn't care too much for Potions (why did it need to be taught in the _dungeons?_) and Astrology left him begging for sleep Wednesday mornings. Luckily, History of Magic was the first class on Wednesdays, and Claire was always more than happy to lend him her notes if he fell asleep.

"No offense to Professor Binns," He told her one evening, handing her her notes, "but having that class after Astrology is impossible."

She laughed quietly while taking the parchment and flipping through her book. "I'm just glad I didn't fall asleep, too. Then we'd have to copy off of Clark. Have you _seen_ his handwriting?"

"Heard that." Clark spoke up from across the library's table as the other two Ravenclaws burst into giggles. "It's really not that bad, you know."

"It looks like you're writing in a foreign language half the time." Brenda pointed at his notes, currently spread out across the table in front of him. "I can't even read that. Is that supposed to say 'Hogwarts'?"

The shorter boy rolled his eyes as the rest of the table snickered. "I'm not used to quills, is all." Ignoring them, he turned towards his housemates and asked, "You both ready for tomorrow?"

Claire shook her head excitedly, while Hershel looked at him with horror. "Ready for what?" There was a sense of despair in his voice.

"Don't be so worried, Hersh," Randall called from a bookshelf behind him, "it's just flying practice. You saw the notices pinned up, right?"

"Uh..." Hershel left that question unanswered, scribbling something on his parchment instead to contain his excitement. Nobody told him that they'd actually get to _fly._

* * *

><p>They were lined up on the Quidditch field the next morning, Ravenclaws on one side and Hufflepuffs on the other. Madame Hooch, the flying instructor, paced in between them, making sure everyone had a broomstick. "I want you to hold your hand over your brooms and say, "Up!"."<p>

A chorus of "Up!"s erupted. A few lucky people got it first-try. Hershel's broom rolled around a bit, prompting him to say it again, before it flew upwards and almost missed his hand. The "Up!"s slowly dwindled, the last few people simply picking up their brooms when Hooch wasn't looking.

"Now," She focused her attention to the students once more. "Mount your brooms," Everyone did so. "And, kick off!" She blew her whistle, and they all dashed up in the air.

Hershel decided that flying was both exciting and terrifying. The feeling of rising above the ground and the wind in his face and just feeling _free_ was amazing. Realizing that he could fall at any moment and injure himself, well, not so much.

The lesson ended abruptly when there was a mid-air collision due to a faulty broomstick. Luckily, both students were close to the ground, and the worst injury was a slightly sprained wrist. Even so, Madame Hooch ordered all brooms to return to the ground and stay there while she took them to the hospital wing. The students touched down, sitting with their friends in small circles and chatting excitedly.

"Wasn't that exciting?" Claire asked as she collapsed next to her friends on the grass.

Henry, from where he lay on his back, gave a tired fist-bump in the air. Clark shrugged, his expression saying "I've done it before.", and Hershel, in a similar position as Henry, laughed, responding with "That's an understatement!".

They remained out there for no more than twenty minuets. Madame Hooch reappeared and ushered them off to their next class, collecting their brooms and storing them for next class.

* * *

><p><strong>I am so so sorry about the sudden hiatus! A lot of personal things happened that I'd rather not go into and I haven't been able to write as much as I'd like. <strong>

**BUT! Finals are next week and I should be able to write a bit more after that! So that's good!**

**Also, I just realized that I have no idea what I'm gonna do with regards to anything 'exciting' happening during the school years D: . I have a few broader ideas, but those won't be coming in until later in Hersh's academic life. So, if you have any ideas that you think would work out in this AU, please leave a comment or PM me!**

**Thank you for being patient and taking time to read this story! :D**


	7. The Halloween Feast

**Heeyyyy, sorry for the slow update. I don't really have an excuse aside form getting addicted to Inside Out and trying _so hard not to get wrapped up in another fic_. :/**

**Also, review response because I think I need to get this part cleared up:**

**Guest: I'm glad that you like this story so far! For clarification, this takes place before Harry Potter, but after the Marauders. Also, this is an AU in which Voldemort never happened (because that would just be conflicting to the plot I have planned out :D), so there position of DADA Professor can be held for more than one year and there's no Boy Who Lived. Also Hagrid is Care of Magical Creatures Professor because reasons.**

* * *

><p>Hershel's Charms class with the Slytherins was fun and annoying all at once. The class and materials they covered were the fun, but Randall could get on his nerves quite a bit. More than a bit, actually. A prime example of this would be when they were first practicing the Levitation Charm.<p>

"Now remember," Said Professor Flitwick, standing atop a stack of books on his chair, "Swish and Flick! Don't forget the proper pronunciation!"

The room quickly filled with the sounds of 11-year-old voices, some practicing the spell and some (particularly in the back) carrying on with conversations that had been left unfinished.

"_Wingarduim Leviosa!_**"**

His feather fluttered slightly, still sitting on his desk. He scowled at it as though he could lift it with just his mind. He was _certain_ he did the hand movements correctly, a swish and a flick, according to Professor Flitwick's instructions. Well, at least it _moved_.

Pointing his wand once more at the small feather, he tried the spell again. **"**_Wingarduim Leviosa!_**"  
><strong>

The feather fluttered once more, this time rising an inch above the desk. Hershel smiled at his victory, trying to raise the feather higher. It was almost elbow height, only a little more...

"Hey, Hersh..."

His concentration broke, and the feather floated downwards. "Randall!" Hershel hissed, obviously mad at his friend.

"Sorry! Just wanted to say good job..." Said the red-head innocently. Hershel nodded, years of being Randall's friend telling him that he was not quite finished. "...and that there's a Hallowe'en Feast tomorrow night that you probably didn't hear of."

Hershel blinked. "October's almost over already?"

"Time flies, I know." Randall tried the spell again, the feather wavering uncertainly at his wand's tip.

Hershel sat still for a moment, waiting for Randall's feather to fall back to the desk. "Why are there feasts for Halloween?" He asked. "I thought that was the day everyone just dressed up in silly costumes and were especially superstitious."

"Muggle Hallowe'en, maybe," Randall shrugged. "But Hogwarts and most Wizarding families have a huge feast every year to celebrate it. It's one of the highlights of the year, really."

"Huh." Hershel stared at the feather, thinking about what the feast would be like.

Professor Flitwick announced class was over soon after. Quickly packing up, he left the classroom with Randall and headed for the Great Hall for lunch.

They could see that some if the decorations were being set up. Large carved pumpkins stood at the entrance to the hall, Hagrid positioning them meticulously. The faint sunlight filtering in from the transparent ceiling caught on orange and purple and black streamers that hung on the walls of the hall.

As they ate, Hershel noted that the sky was steadily darkening. A thin sheet of raindrops fell as he and his fellow Ravenclaws left for their next class, which was luckily indoors.

* * *

><p>The feast was amazing; the best Hershel had ever had in his life. Not to mention the sweets and dessert that put the meager Trick-or-Treating in Stansbury to shame.<p>

Along with the amazing food were the amazing decorations. Bats— real bats! — flew around the floating candles encased in carved pumpkins that cast creepy shadows along the walls. The streamers gleamed with the occasional lightning bolt from outside, adding to the atmosphere. Someone (probably Peeves the Poltergeist) kept making spider shadow-puppets with one of the larger candles, effectively spooking a few of the tipsy staff members.

Hershel and his friends were all seated at the Ravenclaw table, most of his housemates sitting at various tables with their friends. They were all engaged in conversation dealing with the upcoming Quidditch matches. "Remind me again, how does the game end?" He asked around mouth full of sweets.

"The Seeker has to catch the Snitch." Brenda explained. Claire added onto that with, "But catching the Snitch doesn't mean your team will win. It depends on how many points each team has."

Henry spoke up next. "When's the first game again?"

"I think Slytherin and Gryffindor will play, in about a week or so." Said Clark, taking a bite of a pumpkin cake. "Who knows how _that_ will turn out. They've supposedly been Quidditch rivals for ages and play really rough with each other."

"Well, it's _Quidditch, _of course it's gonna be rough_._" Angela scoffed. "But Gryffindor'll win for sure."

"No way! Slytherin's gonna win!" Randall shouted, outraged that his own friend (and crush) would say such a thing. He looked towards the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff. "You'll root for Slytherin, right?"

Hershel put his hands up in front of him, Clark just shrugged, and Claire shook her head. Henry nodded determinedly, causing Randall to grin. "At least one of you is on my side for sure."

"Quidditch season's going to be fun." Claire commented. "We'll see the rivalry for the months before and after the match, and hope someone doesn't get sent to the Hospital Wing by the end of it."

The table quieted, everyone fixated on something other than each other. "…Why don't we turn this into a game ourselves?" Randall spoke up.

"What, do you mean like placing bets?" Asked Brenda, a smile creeping onto her face. "I'm listening."

"Whichever team wins, the persons from that house pick what we get to do." Randall explained. "So, say Slytherin wins, and I want to go prank one of the teachers. Then we'd all have to go and do it. But if Gryffindor wins, and you and Angela want to, I dunno, try and see who can touch the giant squid first, then we'd all have to go do that."

"It seems pretty risky." Said Henry, absently twirling his spoon in his pudding. "What if we get caught?"

"'No risk, no glory!' That's what Dad always tells me." Randall grinned, looking around the table. "What do all you say, then?"

Brenda looked around the table as well, seeing pretty interested faces all around. Turning back to the Slytherin, her grin matched his. "I think you've got yourself a bet."

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, I got one thing sorted out to keep this story going: Quidditch rivalries! Ye! <strong>

**Also I like the way everyone's character is turning out even if it's possible we're getting into OOC territory? Like Clark just seems to give no shit about basically everything and Brenda's just as much as a little shit as Randall sometimes? Is this cool? Are we cool?  
><strong>


	8. The Quidditch Match

**It's been a while, huh? Heh, sorry about that...**

* * *

><p>The day of the Quidditch match slowly approached, and the tension that surrounded the group of friends grew steadily with each passing day. Randall's snide remarks were particularly pointed at Brenda and Angela (but mostly Brenda), and the Gryffindor girls parried with equally loaded comebacks.<p>

Hershel actually looked forward to Potions class now. The only people who were participating in the little bet in that class were Claire and Clark, and they were determined to be neutral on any match that Ravenclaw wasn't in.

"I just feel bad not rooting for Slytherin because Randall's my best friend and all," He said a few days before the match. "But Angela's my friend too. One of them is going to pressure me into rooting for their house."

Clark laughed silently, throwing a handful of something slimy-looking into the cauldron. "Just say you'll cheer for whichever one is winning. They left me alone after I told 'em that."

"Yea, but I've known them since Ma and Pa first brought me to Stansbury." Hershel grumbled. "They're gonna try harder to persuade me, and saying I'll be neutral won't get them off my backs."

"Layton! Triton!" The two boys froze as Professor Snape called them out. "No talking in class. Ten points from Ravenclaw."

Claire snickered as Clark and Hershel practically shoved their heads into their cauldrons.

* * *

><p>The day of the match came at last. The sky was mostly cloudy, the field muddy from the rain from the days prior. All the balls were being inspected by Madame Hooch for extra precaution. Off to the side, Madame Pomfrey was sitting with a few emergency potions for broken bones and concussions.<p>

Hershel and his friends sat in the stands, Randall and Henry on one side, Angela and Brenda on the other, and the three Ravenclaws sitting between them. "Who do you think will win?" Hershel whispered to Claire.

She shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to find out for ourselves."

"Slytherin'll win for sure." Randall grinned to himself. "D'you remember that Desmond bloke from the train, Hersh?" Hershel nodded. "Well, he's on the Slytherin Quidditch team. I've seen him practice; he's _amazing_!"

The players began marching out onto the field, the captains coming forward and shaking hands. Madame Hooch brought out the Quaffle as the players mounted their brooms. She blew her whistle, and the game began.

"_And they're off!_" Shouted the announcer, a Hufflepuff girl in her fifth or sixth year. "_Allen grabs the Quaffle, heading towards the Gryffindor goalposts._" She paused. "_He shoots, and- Ack! Lucky block by Graham!_"

Loud cheers were heard from Angela and Brenda. Hershel could see Randall scowling out of the corner of his eye.

"_Gryffindor has the Quaffle now,_" Said the announcer. "_Lee's coming in fast- Score! Ten points to Gryffindor._"

Randall and Henry shouted a loud, defiant "NO!" as the Gryffindor girls whooped for joy.

"_Allen has reclaimed the Quaffle. He passes it to Breech... now back to Allen... He goes in... Yes! Ten points to Slytherin!_"

It was the Slytherin's turn to cheer. Their cheer was short-lived, however, as Gryffindor managed to score six more goals in succession.

"_The score is 10-70 Gryffindor,_" The announcer's voice sounded upset at the remark. "_Lee has the Quaffle- Oh! Just barely dodged a Bludger there! She passes it to McG- Hold it! The Snitch! Sycamore's sighted the Golden Snitch!_"

Hershel looked up just in time to see Desmond speed by, right arm outstretched. One of the Gryffindor players flew alongside him, trying his hardest to pull ahead. Desmond bumped the player, zooming past him.

Desmond's hand seemed to close around something. His face contorted in pain as his pulled his arm closer to his chest, left hand covering his right. He was stopped in midair as he raised his slightly bloodied hand with the Snitch caught by the wing.

"_He's done it!_" The announcer cheered, voice sounding infinitely happier. "_Desmond Sycamore's caught the Snitch! Slytherin wins 70-160!_"

Half the stadium erupted into cheers, green and gold flags waving wildly. Randall was beside himself with happiness, pulling Henry and Hershel into a hug and cheering loudly along with the rest of his housemates. Claire and Clark cheered as well, not nearly as loud as their friend. Angela and Brenda looked disappointed yet excited at the same time, whispering among themselves.

The stadium slowly began to empty, and with it were Hershel and his friends. "So, Randall," Brenda asked, "What exactly did you have in mind since you won the bet?"

"I'll tell you back at the castle," He said quickly, speeding up. "There's something I have to check first! C'mon!"

Hershel purposely slowed down, loosing his friends in the crowd. He looked around at the much taller students around him, seeking out one face in particular. "Desmond!" He called when he saw them at the edge of the stadium.

"Shh!" Desmond put a finger to his lips. "I'm trying not to be the center of attention just yet."

"Why not?" Hershel asked.

"Crowds make me nervous." Desmond admitted. "That, and Madame Pomfrey said not to aggravate my hand. You do _not_ want to see her mad."

The Ravenclaw noticed the bandage around his right hand. "What happened?"

"I wasn't wearing my gloves today. Completely forgot until after the game had started." The Slytherin laughed. "When I caught the Snitch, the wings beat so hard they cut my hand. It should be better in an hour or so, if Madame Pomfrey's potion works right." He paused. "Was there anything you needed, or...?"

"I just wanted to congratulate you on catching the Snitch." Hershel smiled. "I'd better get going before Randall notices I'm gone. See you!" He ran off towards the castle.

"See you." Desmond waved, a small smile crossing his face.

* * *

><p>"Where <em>were<em> you, Hersh?" Randall asked as Hershel sat down at the table for dinner. "I'd thought you'd just about died!"

"Bathroom. There was a line" He lied. "So, uh, what were you guys talking about?"

"The best, stupidest idea ever." Brenda grinned. "I wish I'd thought of it."

"Well, what is it?" Hershel asked.

Randall's grin grew wider. "Ever heard of the Room of Requirement?"

* * *

><p><strong>Cliffhangers! Oh no!<strong>

**Next up: Standard Hersh+friends hijinks after hours.**

**Note: After the immediate consequences of the first Quidditch bet (so around two or three more chapters), I'm going to move on to their Christmas break, then maybe another Quidditch match, then Easter, then summer, then Second Year, etc. I may jump around here or there, so some years may be 'shorter' than others if nothing particularly ground-breaking happens.  
><strong>

**Thanks to user Mocking J for suggesting the Room of Requirement!**


	9. The Search

**I'm so sorry about the sudden hiatus! School this year has been taking away a lot of my time and energy...  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"The Room of Requirement?" Hershel wondered aloud.<p>

Randall nodded, grin growing ever wider. "Yep. Apparently, Helga Hufflepuff- one of the Hogwarts founders- hid a room in the castle. It's supposed to show up when you need it, with whatever you need in it."

"And... What about it?"

"Don't you get it, Hersh? We're gonna look for it!"

Hershel blinked. "But where are we supposed to look? It could be anywhere in this castle."

"That's what I was saying." Clark spoke up. "We need to narrow down where we're gonna search."

"Well, from what I've heard, Helga Hufflepuff intended the room to be used by everyone." Randall informed them. "So the room has to be accessible by everyone."

"The dormitories are out of the question, then." Brenda said, brow furrowed in thought.

"I don't think it would be near any other room, for that matter." Henry said. "Even with magic charms, you need to have some space to work with. A room that can give you _anything you need_ needs to be pretty big."

"So would it be somewhere around the upper floors of the castle, then?" Angela asked. "There aren't too many rooms up there, just a bunch of tapestries and statues."

"That makes the most sense." Claire nodded. "I'd suggest starting tonight, but unless any of you know any concealing charms, we'll have to wait until tomorrow to avoid Filch."

"In that case, we'll have to put off night-searches for some time. Who knows, maybe the room will give us a few spell books with concealing charms or something." Randall stood, looking around at all his friends. "Rest up, mates. First thing tomorrow morning, we're looking for the Room of Requirement."

* * *

><p>The following morning was a Saturday, so classes wouldn't be a hindrance to their search. As they all sat down for breakfast in their Muggle clothes, Randall announced his plan for going about finding the room. "We'll go in groups of two or three so it's not as suspicious looking. We'll search for a door until lunchtime, and then we'll regroup back here. If you're caught, well, let's hope it's not Filch who catches you and that they'll let you go easy." He paused. "Who wants to go with who?"<p>

"I get to go with Angela." Brenda said. Angela nodded in agreement.

"Could I go with you?" Henry asked Randall, receiving a nod and a smile as confirmation.

"We'll stick together, then." Claire flung her arms around Hershel and Clark's shoulders, grinning.

"Perfect." Randall grinned. "We can get started as soon as everyone else starts to leave. Don't want to seem _too_ suspicious, you know."

The three groups staggered their departure. Randall and Henry left first with another group of First Years as they walked away from the Great Hall. Claire, Clark and Hershel left a few minuets afterwards, with Brenda and Angela following behind a few minuets after that.

Their search began slowly. They could only search when nobody was around, as explaining why they were tapping the walls would be a one-way ticket to trouble. As less and less people began walking through the hallways, their search picked up, and they were able to search more efficiently. However, as they regrouped at the Great Hall at dinnertime, they all came to the same conclusion.

"We've searched all day and haven't found anything." Randall was more than a little disappointed. "And I was really looking forward to finding it!"

"Are we going to try again tomorrow?" Hershel asked.

The red-head nodded. "If you want to, you can look for it on your way back to your common rooms. Henry and I can't risk going up that high into the castle this late at night, 'cause it'd take too long to get back to our rooms after that."

The group of friends finished their dinner and said their good-night's before going their separate ways. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors followed their classmates up into the higher levels of the castle, lingering behind in the hallways to check for the Room of Requirement. They hadn't even realized just how long they had spent searching for the room when they heard a raspy meow coming from the end of the corridor.

"That's Filch's cat!" Brenda hissed, backing away from where Mrs. Norris stood. "We've been out for too long!"

They ran in the opposite direction of the cat, only to discover that Filch was approaching them from the other side, the light of his lantern flickering eerily across the walls. Hershel found himself pacing in front of a stretch of wall, a single thought running through his head. _We need to get somewhere we can hide from Filch we need to get somewhere we can hide from Filch we need to get somewhere we can hide from Filch maybe we can use that door wait what?_

In the space where previously-empty wall was sat a plain, unassuming door. Hershel twisted its handle and pulled it open; it appeared to be full of boxes, miscellaneous school supplies and large, white sheets. Perfect.

"We can hide in here." Hershel decided, calling his friends' attention.

"Will we all even fit in there?" Clark asked him as the girls began finding hiding places.

Hershel gestured to the boxes frantically. "Just hide before-"

"Before what?" A low, threatening voice asked. Both boys turned to see Filch looming over them, Mrs. Norris sitting faithfully at his heels. "Students aren't supposed to be out after hours, so tell your little friend to come out."

Both boys turned white. "L-little friend?" Clark asked, failing to retain any ignorance.

"Don't play dumb with me." Filch growled. "There's someone in that closet, isn't there?" One of the white sheets began to move, and Brenda stepped out, head hung low. "Is there anyone else hiding in there?" Brenda shook her head. Filch narrowed his eyes, commanding them to follow him. Mrs. Norris lingered for a moment more before stalking after her owner.

Under the cover of darkness, Claire and Angela stepped out of the closet, carefully shut the door behind them, and dashed away to their common rooms.

The door was gone by the following morning.


End file.
